


Loss

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Emotional Hurt, Gen, not a whole lot of comfort, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Regis tries to cope  when Noctis struggles with grief, but the truth is there's little he can say to ease the pain of so much loss. Pre-game.





	Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So, so sorry for not posting since July. Please have a nice big dose of angst for an apology ^^; WARNING: this one's a bit of a downer.

The lengthy meeting finally ended. Exhausted, Regis exited the council chambers, Clarus walking with him. The session had gone on for eight hours, during which they hadn’t taken a break. Regis hadn’t allowed for any interruptions. The Empire had pushed hard since the attack on Tenebrae, and Lucis had lost ground. Too much ground. He needed strategies, and after eight hours, they had them.

Several councillors from the outlying areas moved to follow, keen to speak further. Regis glanced at Clarus, who nodded and turned back, addressing the councillors.

Regis picked up his pace. He needed to get back to his chambers and check in on his son. Since their return from Tenebrae, Noctis hadn’t been himself. He barely spoke, he did his exercises in silence, and he screamed himself awake more often that he slept through a night. Regis couldn’t bear to leave him, but the kingdom’s demands had only grown in recent weeks. He knew the trauma Noctis had endured was far too heavy a burden for a young child, but he could hardly imagine the lasting damage. And Regis hated to think that his absences only caused more hurt.

Taking the Citadel’s private corridors and lifts, Regis reached his and Noctis’ residence. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, intending to check in with Clarus. Instead, the message onscreen completely distracted him.

_Eighteen missed calls._

Regis came to a standstill. He scrolled through and saw every call had come from Ignis. An icon flashed, showing him he had one message. Regis listened to Ignis telling him Noctis _isn’t having a good day, Your Majesty. If you could come by as soon as you receive this message, both myself and the doctor would be very grateful._

The doctor? What had happened? Dropping the phone into his pocket, Regis picked up his pace. When he reached Noctis’ room, he found Ignis and the doctor seated at Noctis’ bedside. Even from his distance, Regis could see the tearstains on his sleeping child’s face.

“What’s happened?” Regis asked.

Ignis leapt to his feet. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Regis moved to Noctis’ beside, placing a hand on his son’s head. Noctis didn’t stir. “Tell me what happened.” It was hard to keep his impatience in check.

“Prince Noctis became very upset during today’s physiotherapy session,” the doctor said, his voice calm like he dealt with traumatised children regularly. Perhaps he did; Regis knew the medical staff at the Citadel were frequently called into the local hospitals. “He simply wouldn’t settle, and he was clearly in a lot of pain. I had to give him a fairly high dose of painkillers, so I imagine he’ll sleep through until the morning.”

“He didn’t explain what upset him?” Regis asked.

“No,” the doctor said.

“He did,” Ignis said.

Regis turned to Ignis. “What is it?”

Ignis twitched, composure cracking. “He asked for his governess.”

Regis gave Ignis’ shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me. You’ve done well as always. Why don’t you head home? I’m sure Noct will feel better tomorrow.”

Ignis bowed and took his leave.

“Would you like me to stay, Your Majesty?” the doctor asked. He tapped his glasses back up his nose.

“No, it’s alright,” Regis said. He sat at his son’s side, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’ll be certain to call if I need you.”

“I’ll ensure the night staff are aware of what’s happened,” the doctor said as he took his leave.

Regis looked down at Noctis. He slept on his stomach. He would’ve looked completely relaxed, if not for the tear tracks running down his cheeks. Regis should’ve known the trauma would catch up to Noctis eventually. Ciel had been with him for so many years, a constant figure in his mother’s absence. And to have her so cruelly ripped away had surely left a deep scar.

“Noct?” Regis called.

His son didn’t even stir. The doctor hadn’t been wrong about the medication. Regis reached for his phone and called Clarus.

“Is everything alright?” Clarus asked. “I saw young Ignis on my way out. He seemed a little distressed so I had his father come and pick him up.”

“Thank you,” Regis said, kicking himself for not thinking of that. “It’s Noct. He’s had a bad day.”

“Ah. How can I be of assistance?”

“I may be late to tomorrow’s council session.” Regis wanted nothing more than to cancel it, but he couldn’t, not with Niflheim seizing more territory than ever before. “I can’t leave until I’ve spoken with Noctis.”

“Spoken with him?”

“He’s asleep.”

“Ah. Well, if there’s one thing I know about that boy of yours, it’s that there’s no waking him when he doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Clarus said, the fondness in his voice very real.

“I’ll be along to the meeting as soon as I am able, but you know where I stand on the issues. We will accept all the refugees.”

“Understood,” Clarus said. “Regis, if Noctis needs you…”

“He understands,” Regis said, the words souring him. “I will attend as soon as I’ve spoken with him.”

“Alright. Try to get some rest. He needs you at full strength.”

Full strength had eluded Regis for quite some time. He said nothing and ended the call. Regis silenced his phone. He wouldn’t accept any disturbances tonight. Instead, he settled himself into the chair at his son’s side and waited.

***

Noctis didn’t sleep through until morning. He woke up in the middle of the night, breathing hitched like he’d sucked in the air for a scream he didn’t let out. Regis shot out of his chair and looked down at his son.

“Noct? Look at me. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

Noctis stared up at him, his blue eyes swimming with tears. He didn’t look happy to see Regis. If anything, he looked devastated. Regis eased himself onto the bed beside Noctis, taking care not to jostle him. He ran a gentle hand over his son’s hair. Noctis snuggled against him but he didn’t speak. He’d been very quiet since the return from Tenebrae. Maybe tragedy had stolen his words along with his health.

Regis couldn’t let it go on. He longed to hear Noctis laugh again. The only way would surely be to encourage him to speak. “Ignis told me you didn’t have a very good day.”

“It was fine,” Noctis said, voice tight.

“You had a lot of pain,” Regis went on.

Noctis didn’t even bother responding to that.

“Are you in pain now? Shall I call for a doctor?”

Noctis shook his head.

Regis wouldn’t be put off by his son’s quietude. “We should’ve spoken about Ciel a while ago.” He felt Noctis stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’m so sorry. She was a wonderful person and she loved you dearly. I will forever be grateful to her.”

Noctis’ hands gathered the bedding and squeezed tight.

“She’d be so proud of how brave you’ve been,” Regis said. “Just as I am.”

“Why didn’t she survive?” Noctis asked. “Why am I here and she isn’t?”

That was a tough question, but Regis did his best. “Because she protected you.”

Noctis was so quiet for a moment, Regis thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. Then a very quiet voice spoke up. “Is it my fault they Ciel died? Is it my fault Luna’s home was burned down?”

“No! Never, Noct!” The tone of Regis’ voice sent Noctis flinching away from him. Regis reined himself in. His son needed soothing, not terrifying. How had he not known Noctis carried this guilt? “Only the Empire is to blame. Not you.”

“But I didn’t do anything to help!”

Regis wanted to tell him of course he didn’t; no one would expect an eight-year-old to fight back. But he sensed that wasn’t what Noctis needed to hear right now. “You will help plenty of others when the time is right.”

“It’s not fair,” Noctis said. Regis heard the tears in his voice.

“I know,” Regis said. “I wish I could undo it all, but I cannot.”

“Today’s Ciel’s birthday,” Noctis said, his voice small. He pointed to the toy chest at the end of his bed. “I made her a present at school and hid it in there. I wrapped it by myself. Ignis didn’t even help.”

Regis ached with sadness. “That’s very sweet of you. She would have loved it.”

“I wanted to give it to her. I thought we could use it to catch more fireflies in the gardens, but – ” Noctis’ voice trailed off. His shoulders shook with tears Regis knew he didn’t want to fall. “But Ciel’s –”

“It’s alright to cry when you miss someone,” Regis said softly. “If you want to cry for Ciel, you can. You’re allowed to miss her.”

Noctis shuddered and collapsed against his father, weeping forlornly. “I want her to come back. She’s not supposed to die. No one’s supposed to die!”

Regis struggled to hold himself together as Noctis sobbed. Regis had chosen Ciel himself, charmed by her passion and dedication. She hadn’t come to work in his household for the prestige; she looked after Noctis because she genuinely cared about his well-being when he was all of three months old. Ciel was there when Regis couldn’t be. She’d seen first steps and heard first words. She praised her son’s achievements. She supported his education. She was his playmate when Ignis was otherwise occupied. She was his carer, and she had been cruelly torn away from him. It was already too late when Regis arrived; Ciel had shielded Noctis as best she could, giving him the chance he’d needed to survive. Regis prayed to the Astrals that Noctis had no memory of how severe Ciel’s injuries had been. The young woman had been almost cut in two. Her bravery hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Regis had seen to it that her family would be well-looked after. But none of that mattered. Not right now, in the depths of the night, as his son wept for his loss. Regis longed to lift Noctis up and hold him, but doing so right now would only cause him more pain.

Slowly, Noctis quietened. He held himself stiffly, the medicine clearly wearing off. He barely breathed.

“Relax,” Regis said. “Tensing up won’t help.”

“It hurts,” Noctis gasped. “Worse than before.”

“Alright.” Regis sent a quick text to the on-duty doctor. While they waited, Regis allowed Noctis to cling to his hand as tightly as possible. His son had a surprisingly strong grasp, but Regis bore the pain of crushed fingers. “We’ll get through this,” Regis said. “I promise you we will.”

Noctis said nothing.

There was a soft knock at the door. Regis called out for the person to enter, and the young night shift doctor came in. She had a small bag with her. Noctis clung to his father. Regis brushed away the last few tears clinging to his cheeks. “Don’t worry, this will help the pain go away.” He and the doctors had created a special medicine for times when Noctis’ back was at its worse, the blend of magic and painkillers designed especially for him. They were to be used sparingly, and only on Noctis’ worst days.

Noctis nodded and took the medicine without complaint.  Well, almost. The look on his face told Regis the taste wasn’t appreciated.

“Good boy,” the doctor said with a gentle smile. “It’ll help you get some rest.”

Noctis was drowsing within moments. The doctor slipped out of the room once again. Regis retook his spot at Noctis’ side. He brushed a hand through Noctis’ thick, black locks. And old waltz came to mind, one he used to hum when Noctis was a baby. Noctis curled his hands around Regis’. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Regis said.

“No.” Noctis fought off the sleepiness pulling at him. “Don’t die.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Regis said, the lie bitter on his tongue. “Rest. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Not tonight,” Regis said.

Noctis couldn’t fight it anymore. Sleep won out and he slumped into his pillows. Regis tucked him in. He settled back in his chair, cursing himself. He could’ve lied, given Noctis the comfort he sought. But he couldn’t take back what his son knew of death. All he could do was soften the blow.

Regis’ tears came from nowhere. He bent double, pressing his face into his hands to smother his own weeping. How much more would Noctis have to lose before his destiny claimed him?

In the dark depths of the night, Regis silently cursed the gods.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


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